I know sometimes it’s hard to keep up with what’s happening with me, but my last Western for the year will be released on September 11th! And I think it’s one you will really enjoy. Sorry, no wild menages, but it does have a fun, suspenseful plot, starting with a bank robbery and ending with a bad guy staring down the hero at a police roadblock. In between, there’s tons of sweet of lovin’ as the hero and heroine learn to trust each other again. Below is a short snippet from one of my favorite scenes—the first kiss.

Enjoy it, and if you have time or inclination, you can pre-order the book now.  It’s available now at both Samhain and Amazon.com. If you happen to head to Amazon, do an author a favor and “like” and “tag” the book so other readers can find it when they search for sexy Westerns! Thanks, y’all!! ~DD

Seeking sanctuary could be the hottest mistake she ever made.

The TripleHorn Brand, Book 1

A lifetime ago, Zuri Prescott kicked the dirt off her boots and ditched her small-time small town for the glam city life—and lived to regret it. When she’s framed for a bank job, she lights out for home, seeking refuge with her old high school sweetheart while she figures out her next steps. Only she discovers that the boy she left behind is the last man she should trust.

Sheriff Colt Triplehorn knows trouble when he sees it, especially when it comes in the form of a familiar trespasser, caught naked between an angry bull and her underwear. Sure she’s up to her usual no good, he grants her sanctuary at his ranch—the better to keep an eye on her, and purge her from his system once and for all.
Reconnection is sweet and hot, but the heat can’t hide the truth. When Colt inevitably finds out what Zuri’s running from, it’s too late to put the fire out, and he’s got a career-compromising choice on his hands. Follow the letter of the law, or follow his heart.

Product Warnings: When a sheriff captures the girl who got away, expect revenge so hot it leaves brands on two lonely hearts…

Zuri bit her lip. Colt didn’t look happy to see her. But why should he? It wasn’t like she’d been any more than a convenience for him in high school. The girl from the wrong side of the tracks with the scandalous family—she’d never really stood a chance at being anything other than his little bit on the side.

She could still remember standing in the gym, her heart pounding as she stared up at him, telling him she had her bags packed and she was heading east to start her life. Her stepfather had shown her the door that morning, his duty done. She didn’t have any place to go but away—unless Colt offered her another option.

But his face had hardened, his jaw sawing closed, a muscle rippling along the strong, square edge.

“What were you gonna tell me?” she’d asked past the lump lodged at the back of her throat.

“Never mind,” he’d said, pulling on a tight smile and walking her to her car.

With that, she’d had the answer to the question that had lingered between them their entire senior year. He didn’t love her enough to ask her to stay. And besides, she’d had big plans. Plans that didn’t include staying in this one-horse town, no matter how handsome her boyfriend was. Or how sweet his lovemaking.

Staring back at him now, she didn’t know why she hadn’t fought harder to hold onto him. The promise his lean, rangy body had held had been fulfilled. His broad shoulders and thickly muscled arms stretched the pale blue cotton of his work shirt. His waist tapered to well-hewn hips and thighs. His face, however, had undergone the most changes, losing its youthful softness. It was now honed to sharp, masculine edges. Lord, he made her mouth water.

She wondered if he’d been disappointed in the lack of change in her own body. She was still long and skinny, her breasts unimpressive swells that hardly needed the bra that had floated down the center of the river when she’d confronted the angry bull.

Colt knelt beside her clothing, tucked a finger under her skirt and raised it. “This all you have to wear?”

Light shone through a large jagged tear where the bull’s sharp hooves had ground the navy, summer-weight wool skirt. Zuri’s shoulders slumped.

“Do you have something else to put on?”

She shook her head, and Colt stared for a long moment. Then he dropped the ruined skirt to the ground and picked up the blouse. It was grayed from her time in the floodwaters and smudged by the bull’s abuse. Colt shook his head. He dropped the blouse too, heaved a sigh, then stood and began to unbutton his shirt.

“Where are your shoes, Zuri?” he asked, his voice rough as gravel.

“Guess I lost them,” she said, feeling like her mouth was stuffed with cotton.

“You gonna tell me what’s goin’ on?”

She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth because it had started to tremble, but managed a nod, even though she knew she’d wait and see whether she could trust him with all her woes.

“Here,” he said, holding his shirt out for her take.

Only problem was, she’d have to stand and walk out of the water to get it. Read the rest of this entry »

Two quick notes!
1) The Cowboy Lust Blog Tour continues! Check out the link to find all the stops. We’re breaking for the weekend, but that only means you have time to go back and hit every site. Your comments still count!
2) Post a comment here today and you’ll be entered to win a free download of this book or another from my backlisted Samhain books! ~DD

* * * * *

You know I’m not the least bit shy. And I don’t let modesty or social convention get in the way of my wicked imagination. So when my guy Jackson needs the support of his best buddies, you know they are there to give him and Marti everything they need. Here’s a scene where the guys prove what great friends they are… 🙂

“FIVE WAYS ‘TIL SUNDAY was an awesome read…” ~4.5 Stars, Night Owl Reviews

“Delightfully quick read, you are so consumed in the story it is difficult to put it down…” ~ Sensual Reads

Sometimes a man’s just gotta call for backup…

Marti Kowalski is all wrong for Officer Jackson Teague—he just won’t listen to reason. She didn’t finish high school, runs a bar. Has a tattoo and a blue streak in her hair. Yet he still wants to marry her? She can’t say she’s not tempted, but she’s got a bucket list to complete before she ties the knot.

Not just any bucket—more like a fifty-five-gallon drum of sexual wishes so explicit, there’s no way one man, even Jackson, can fulfill them all.

When Marti turns him down again, Jackson doesn’t give up, he insists on knowing why. That’s when she shows him her list. He takes it, thinks about it—and calls on the only men he can trust: four buddies from his academy graduating class.

Between the five of them, he’s sure they can come up with a plan to check off every item on her list in one wild, wicked weekend. That is, if she has the nerve to follow through—and if he can bear to share her.

Warning: Five men on a mission to break down the resistance of one determined woman. Author suggest readers keep their significant others on speed dial. Not responsible for accidental 911 calls.

Two days later, Jackson sat at his usual table with his buddies in The Emerald Tavern, eyeing Marti’s flushed face as she worked the bar. She hadn’t glanced his way except once when he’d first arrived.

Things had been strained between them since he’d read the note. Although they’d gone through the motions, the part of their relationship that made it so different than anything he’d experienced before was absent, crushed beneath the strain of the damn list.

“So’s the honeymoon over?”

Jackson shot Craig with a stinging glare then scanned the rest of his friends. Thursday was the one day of the week where their schedules allowed them to meet. They slouched in their seats. Condensation glistened on the sides of their beers. Not something that happened often because the first beer was always eagerly consumed.

Absent were the rowdy laughter and crude jokes. Not a single gibe had been aimed his way, even though his attention was snagged, as usual, by the curvy brunette behind the counter.

Beau McIntyre cleared his throat. “Craig said you needed some help with something.” Humor glinted in his slanted, dark brown eyes, but his features were difficult to read. Although he was only half Asian, the other half African American, inscrutable was still a word that fit his neutral expression. If he was laughing inside, no hint shown in his dark eyes as he watched Jackson.

Jackson glanced at Craig, frowning, wondering if he’d spilled the beans about The List. “I don’t need help with a goddamn thing.” Read the rest of this entry »

With the Olympics blowing up your television, aren’t you glad there’s a quieter way to celebrate female athletes? This is out now! Click on the pick if you’d like to read my contribution to the anthology, “Playing the Field.” Congratulations to my friend, Ily Goyanes, for her debut as a Cleis editor! I’m proud to be a part of this book!

Even though they may not get a lot of action on the field after high school and college, girl jocks always manage to see a lot of action off the field. Because female athletes have an easy confidence about them, a natural nonchalance, and usually a killer bod, that draws all kinds of women to them—straight, lesbian, bisexual, curious, questioning, you name it. Women are competitive by nature, whether they play sports or games. Women play hard and love harder. They don’t just score—they keep track. GIRLS WHO SCORE is filled with story after story of complex, intriguing women engaging in all kinds of, ahem, contact sports. Sinclair Sexsmith contributes “A Good Workout” at the gym with lots of hot action in the steam room and Gina Marie has two women boxers going at it in every way in her ever-so-sexy “Blood Lust.” Delilah Devlin’s soccer champs have a very good time in “Playing the Field,” and Elle’s “Game Over” has a cheerleader who “trains” a freshmen each year to serve her every need. Sporty dykes aren’t always playing ball, so to speak. After all, scuba divers and gym bunnies are in fact athletes and editor Ily Goyanes features lesbian jocks of every stripe in this sweet and sweaty volume.

Table of Contents

Chairs by Sommer Marsden
Blood Lust by Gina Marie
A Good Workout by Sinclair Sexsmith
Lucky Number Three by Beth Wylde
Give and Go by Anna Watson
Playing the Field by Delilah Devlin
No, Tell Me How You Really Feel by Ily Goyanes
Run, Jo, Run by Cheyenne Blue
Boot Camp by JT Langdon
Facing the Music by Kiki DeLovely
Out and a Bout by Allison Wonderland
The Outside Edge by Sacchi Green
Hail Mary by Shanna Germain
Goddess in a Red and Blue Speedo by D.L. King
Cymone’s Dominatrix by Paisley Smith
Game Over by Elle

Hey there! Two quick notes!
1) Two Wild for Teacher is up for July’s Book of the Month at Long and Short Reviews! I’d really appreciate your votes! The contest ends tomorrow!
2) There’s a very short interview with a prize involved at What Daydrmzz Are Made Of. Drop by and post for a chance to win!

I don’t write separations much. In most of my stories, once the hero(es) and heroine are introduced, they’re pretty much together for the rest of the book working out their problems. Maybe that’s because that was always my own personal experience. *cough* In Ravished by a Viking, I gave Dagr and Honora a separation. He sacrifices himself, surrendering himself, his crew, and the ship he took as part of a larger plan. In the excerpt below, Honora knows he’s been tortured, likely already dead. But she’s made her own sacrifice, entering the Viking’s keep, without his protection, to tell them an army is coming. This scene preceeds my favorite scene in the entire book…where Vikings battle dragons…

2011 CAPA winner for Best Sci-Fi Romance!

What a Viking wants, a Viking takes.

When his younger brother goes missing, Dagr, Viking warrior and Lord of the Wolfskin Clan, will do whatever it takes to get him back. But nothing could have prepared him for Honora—a feisty, intelligent woman who is nothing like the women of his world—women who are content to serve their men in all things. Drawn to her despite her recalcitrant nature, Dagr is determined to show her who’s boss both in bed and out.

When the two enemies-turned-lovers join forces to find Dagr’s brother they are thrown into a rousing adventure full of danger, intrigue and erotic abandon. Can their passion truly unite them or will their different worlds lead to destruction for them both?

“They’ve come! They’ve come!” came the whispers up and down the wallwalk.

Honora ran to a guard who leaned over the parapet, his hand pointing.

Vikings scrambled from below, climbing the stairs and ladders to get to the top.

“Are they daft?” Odvarr exclaimed loudly.

And next to her ear. Honora shook her head to clear the ringing and aimed a glare his way. “Shhh! The wind will only carry away so much of our sounds.”

“Why bother being quiet? They’ve already proven themselves fools.” Read the rest of this entry »

Thanks so much to everyone who followed me around the blogosphere this week!
Winners should be named shortly! ~DD

I wrote my very first cowboy story in 2007. It was a short story and my first attempt at writing in first person. Something I wrote for a friend who was starting up a new publishing company. I loved this cowboy so much, I wrote another and another…

Post a comment here today and you can win a free download of COWBOY.

Caught in a sudden thunderstorm on a lonely stretch of Texas highway, I pull into a dingy little diner to wait out the rain, never dreaming the cowboy of my dreams would follow me inside. Now I have a couple of choices, play it coy and safe? Or go for the big brass buckle…

Lightning clawed the dark like a crow’s foot, illuminating thick thunderheads that glowed yellow-green and ominous. The color of the sky before a tornado twisted its nasty tail.

Glad to be out of the rain and safe from the jagged, streaking light, I shivered against the cool vinyl booth as another flash lashed out like the end of a whip, lighting the horizon so intensely that for a moment the darkened parking lot was bright as high noon.

That was when I saw the large pickup roll in, pulling a horse trailer. It ground to a halt beside the diner’s plateglass window. The driver wasn’t going to bother trying to park it in the flooded lot.

I heard the muffled slam of the truck door, but the end of the lightning strike flickered out, plunging the parking lot back into darkness. The driver would be soaked before he even hit the door. Only twelve feet, but the rain was coming down in sheets. I’d been lucky, arriving before the worst of the storm struck. Mostly dry, I’d peered through the window at the deepening night, waiting for a lull. Read the rest of this entry »

If you missed the blog tours announcements on my HOME page, here’s where I’ll be today:
*  Guilty Indulgence
*  Delighted Reader
*  Black Hippie Chick’s View on Books and the World

Tons of prizes are at stake! If you’ve missed a few stops, be sure to circle back to all the links on the HOME page. No prizes have been awarded yet!

I have so many irons in the fire right now. I won’t list them now. You’d be bored, and I’d start to feel panicked. So instead, I’ll share a little excerpt from something coming your way in August. It’s been ready for release for a while, but there hasn’t been a good time for me to upload, so I’ll wait a few weeks. Enjoy the excerpt. This is the only glimpse into the past. The rest of the book takes place in the present.

Dragon’s Desire

Ragged wisps of clouds crawled across the face of the full moon, lightening then darkening the barren precipice. Local villagers called it The Dragon’s Atoll. The bürgermeister had given him directions, told him when to begin the climb, warning him the atoll only existed during the full moon before it disappeared for another hundred years.

An hour earlier, the knight had climbed the rocky precipice and now hid behind a stone pillar, sword drawn. He listened to the soft sobs of the girl the villagers had chained to the pillar according to rules handed down for a millennium, or so the elders had said. She was their sacrifice, their gift to the winged demon to pacify its hunger and spare them its wrath.

The knight had silently scoffed at their fear. He didn’t believe in dragons or demons. At least, not mythical beasts. He’d seen enough in his travels to Palestine and back to know evil existed. True evil resided in the hearts of greedy, bloodthirsty men.

Still, the purse filled with gold the villagers offered him to slay the dragon and rid them of their curse convinced him to remain where he was.
“I shall die,” the girl whispered, “savaged by the beast.”

“You won’t die,” he whispered, casting her a sideways glance. “’Tis only a tale.”

“You weren’t raised on tales of the horror. Do you think they are only stories told to frighten children?” she said, her voice rising toward the end.

She was a comely thing with golden hair and gentle curves. He’d fought shock and disgust when the old men had cut her clothing from her body to leave her nude. The night was chilly and the sound of her teeth clacking as her body shivered had him reaching for his cape. If they were bound to wait together, she needn’t freeze.

Come morning, he’d lead her from the mountain and deliver her to her father, the bürgermeister who’d hired him, safe and sound. He stepped around the pillar and bent over to slip the cloak around her.

Instead, she shook her head. “You mustn’t.”

“You are cold.”

“I’ll not be the reason my village suffers.”

He sighed and dropped the cloak, trying not to let his gaze slide down her naked frame but failing. Her nipples were ruched, the tips drawn into tight buds on her round, firm mounds. “How were you so unlucky to be chosen?” he asked quietly, leaning his back against the gray granite rock so he looked out across the atoll rather than at her.

“A lottery of maidens is held. All our names are entered.”

His lips twitched and he shot her a glance. “And how do the villagers know you are truly virgin?” Read the rest of this entry »

Fox’s Folly is a first in a couple of ways. It’s my first male-male book, though I’ve written a few m/m short stories, including one that was published as standalone ebook. It’s my first prequel. It’s the prequel Foxes’ Den (Duals and Donovans: the Different 2), which is why, though Fox’s Folly is a Duals and Donovans book, it doesn’t have a series number. And it’s the first book an editor specifically sparked me to write.

At the time my Samhain editor, the fabulous Linda Ingmanson, accepted Foxes’ Den, which is a menage involving a married male couple—witch Paul and fox shape-shifter Tag—and the kitsune they both come to love, she said she’d love to see a book about how Paul and Tag met. At the time, I wasn’t sure how they’d met, only that it had involved some element of danger and, given Tag’s character and his connection to the god Trickster, probably some element of oddness. I let the idea stew in the back of my mind for a while and then it came to me. Las Vegas! They meet in Las Vegas, where they’re both fish out of water. Donovan witches are very connected to nature and not very connected to the more materialistic aspects of mainstream human culture. Duals (my take on shape-shifters) simply don’t like cities, where their animalsides feel confined and they’re more likely to have trouble from the repressive Agency. But what if Paul and Tag had to be in Las Vegas for some good reason? Say, to catch a magical serial killer?

And so the book was born.

PS: Stop by my blog, https://www.teresanoelleroberts.com, and leave a comment on the CONTEST! Win a Copy of Fox’s Folly for—you guessed it—a chance to win a copy of the book.

What happens in Vegas lasts forever…if you’re lucky.

A Duals and Donavans story

Las Vegas is the wrong place for an inexperienced witch like Paul Donavan. But he has no choice; his family owes a debt of honor to a half-fae casino owner, whose guests have been dying under mysterious circumstances. The normy police haven’t connected the dots between the deaths, and the owner has called in his marker.

When Paul literally runs into fox dual Taggart Ross, the instant, powerful attraction between them bristles with red flags. Not only should there be no sparks between him and this “hillbilly with a tail,” the fact is a dual couldn’t have committed murder-by-magic. But until he’s got proof, caution rules.

Tag’s own suspicions are on high alert. Magic killed his favorite uncle, and Paul, who senses Tag’s dual nature way too easily, should be a prime suspect. Except Tag’s libido responds to the witch in a way that shouldn’t happen.

Whatever this thing is between them, the raw sexual energy feeds a power that becomes their best hope of drawing out the killer before he, she, or it strikes again. Until love gets involved, and things get real complicated, real fast…

“I think we’re here for the same reason. Does the name Randolph-Macon McNeil mean anything to you?”

“One of the five people who’ve died under mysterious circumstances lately at the Excalibur. Sixty-two, professional gambler, fox dual…” He spoke dispassionately, as if reciting facts from a report. Then he paused, and a look of horror crossed his face “Was he family, Tag? I’m so sorry…”

“My uncle. I’m here to find out who the fuck killed him and take him down hard.”

“No, you won’t. We will.” Paul’s voice was soft and professorial, but something in his tone made the words ring in the air with the force of an oath before the gods.

“Really? Do you mean that?” Tag tried to keep the emotion out of his voice, but that wasn’t the fox way. He was tough, tougher than most, but he’d loved his uncle.

And he hated to admit it, but he needed all the help he could get. He’d gotten into this figuring he’d find the killer and then call in reinforcements, but if Uncle Randolph was the fifth victim, and a fae had asked for help dealing with it, Tag needed magic, not just muscle. “Really?” he repeated, feebly aware he should be saying something wittier but unable to make his brain work at proper speed.

“Really. I got drafted to do this. For you, it’s personal. Hearth, heart and home fuel magic. We’ll be stronger together than we are alone. And you look like you shouldn’t be alone.”

The next thing Tag knew, Paul’s arms were around him.

Damn, Paul could kiss, and his hands, even when they weren’t touching anywhere Tag would normally consider an erogenous zone, sent heat through Tag’s body. Maybe it was magic, or maybe the guy was just that talented. At this point, Tag didn’t care. All he really cared about was seeing how long they could go without thinking about dead people and just focusing on sex, or at least the yummy preliminaries to sex.

Tag was fumbling with the buttons on Paul’s dress shirt—too formal by comparison to what everyone else seemed to wear in Las Vegas, almost silky under his hands although it was cotton—when someone knocked at the door. “Housekeeping always shows up at the worst times,” Paul muttered before throwing himself into kissing Tag so thoroughly that Tag forgot not only the persistent knock on the door but the day of the week and the reason he was in Las Vegas. He was working up to forgetting his name when the door opened, and a man walked into the room.